


You are Going to Hate This.

by clowndog



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Bending (Avatar TV), Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Bisexuality, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Found Family, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Smoking, Suki is so cool, copious tea moments, ozai is homophobic, they're all in their early/mid twenties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24733162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clowndog/pseuds/clowndog
Summary: Sokka is heartbroken. The only thing consistent in his life is his home and his music. Zuko is dropped right in the middle.Modern AU - Lets be in a bandNamed after a song by the frights
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), everyone/a therapist, former suki/sokka
Comments: 17
Kudos: 68





	1. Rip the Bandaid

**Author's Note:**

> Idea I've had for a while to just smush my two biggest interests together, the alt-music scene and avatar. Mostly just an excuse to have boys arguing about bands I like and to have them kiss too (eventually).  
> slow burn enemies-friends-lovers kinda deal, everyone has trauma to deal with, modern setting. 
> 
> first thing I've written in about 5 years so concrit is deeply appreciated!

The curtains opened with a jingle. Sokka pushes open an eyelid just long enough to be blinded by the thick yellow of sunlight. He groans, pulls the front of his ripped tank top over his face, and rolls his body away from the brightness. 

“Dude, get up. It’s noon.” a familiar voice, reedy and calm. Aang.

“Get out of my room, let me sleep.” 

“Sokka. This is the living room.” 

He pushes his head out of his shirt just to see that he is in fact, in the living room. On the floor, swimming in a lake of beer cans and BO. 

“I’ve gotta stop drinking so much.” He feels the dryness of his throat in the effort it takes him to speak. Aang snorts a laugh in agreement and puts a glass of water and two aspirin on the coffee table next to him. Sokka takes both. Pops the pills into the back of his mouth and swallows the glass in three gulps. Memories of the last night try to peak through in his brain, but he shoves them away sticking the heels of his palms in his eyes. 

“You might wanna get up, I have company coming.” Aang picks at his teeth with a fingernail, then admires his reflection in the mirror. He looked different after his growth spurt after highschool but his face was still the same doughy kid Sokka had grown up with. Though the head tattoo at least confused gas station clerks enough not to ID him anymore. 

“I don’t have to get dressed for Katara, She’s seen me worse.” A quick sniff of his own armpit made his opinion sway for a second but he kept quiet. 

“Katara’s not hanging today, she has schoolwork.” Sokka catches Aangs gaze in the mirror, but Aang quickly looks away and takes an audible sip of the tea in his hand. Aang clears his throat in the way Sokka knows he has a surprise coming. 

“Aang.” They lock eyes again. sokka narrows his. “Spill.”

“Welll…” He rubs the back of his shaved head.

“Dude no-”

“I swear he’s a friend of a friend and would make a good addi-”

“We don’t need another member.” Aang offers him a hand off the ground and Sokka takes it. He smells coffee and follows to the kitchen where a fresh pot is steaming and fragrant. 

“You know our sound is good but you know since Katara left the band we’ve hit a creative rut-” 

“We tore down last night and you know it.” He grabs a mug from the sink. and sniffs it. Then deems it passable and begins to pour breakfast into it. 

“And?” Aang snags the mug from Sokkas’ hand and passes him a new one from the dry rack. “-we only played the shit we wrote in highschool, and that’s good and all but we haven’t written new material-” Sokka fills the new mug with coffee. “And this new guy has experience in the professional sphere.”  
“Then why isn’t he playing professionally?” He sips. A quick recoil from the bitterness. He sips again. 

“Look, it’s a favor for Iroh.” 

“Iroh? I didn’t know he played?” 

“Iroh’s retired, his nephew. He’s new in town and could use some friends.” 

“We can be friends, sure, but I’ve made my decision and Toph agrees with me.” 

“What do i agree with, again?” Toph is standing in the open front door, Dirty jeans, a hoodie, and smeared make up from the night before. Hair a birds nest atop her head. 

“Welcome home!” Aang gets her mug down from the cupboard. “How’s satoru.” He winks. 

Toph pauses, “None. Of your business.” She kicks off her dirty boots, slips herself onto the counter, and folds her legs criss cross. 

“Tea or Coffee?”

“Coffee!” She claps her hands twice, commanding her friend for morning juice. 

“Don’t change the subject. Aang wants to bring in a guitarist.” 

“Hm.” Toph takes a granola bar from her pocket and crunches it. 

“See she agrees-”

She shakes her head, and says in between crunches “Look i like being a three piece as much as you but-” 

“Exactly, no need to continue Toph, we have a consensus.” 

“Sokka.” Aang hands her a now full cup of coffee and she nods a thank you back. “Don’t interrupt me.” Sokka opens his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a knock. 

“Uh.” The stranger speaks and the three look over. “Hi, I’m here about-”

“Oh please come in.” Aang grabs another mug, this one labelled ‘#1 Grandpa’. “Coffee or tea?” 

“Tea, please.” Zuko steps in, slipping off his shoes and leaving them neatly at the door. 

“Please have a seat.” Sokka announces, less as an offer but more as an order. Toph snorts at Sokka’s attempt at being intimidating. He glares at her but she doesn’t see it. 

Zuko takes a seat on the couch, dwarfed but the softness of the cushions he still attempts to sit up straight and proper. 

Sokka takes a seat on a recliner directly across from the suspect, body leaning forward and elbows on his knees. He studies Zuko and Zuko has no choice but to return the uncomfortable eye contact. 

“Top five musical influences.” Sokka spits.

Zuko catches chokes on his spit. “-Excuse me?” 

“You have ten seconds.” 

“Sokka, come on.” Aang interjects, pushing a cup of hot tea into zuko’s hands.

“Ten. Nine-.” 

“Loma Prieta, The Clash, Black Flag, Lightning bolt, Daughters.” His tone has changes, eyes hardened, taking on the challenge. 

“Top Album.”

“Sunbather.” Zuko leans forward, engaging the threat.

“A little overrated, huh?” Sokka strikes back. 

“Only if you care about that kind of thing.”

“Now.” Pause for dramatic effect “What’s your real top album?”

Zuko pauses, breaks eye contact “Be the cowboy.” 

Sokka laughs a little “I’m more of a Puberty 2 kinda guy but no, I get it.” He wobbles his hand for emphasis. The two let down their guard, satisfied with their argument and acknowledging each others nerd cred. 

“Look can we stop measuring dicks for a second and just see your soundcloud or something?” Toph appears behind the couch. 

Zuko “I don’t see how that has to do with renting a room.” 

Sokka blinks. The room is still. “Renting?”  
“Uhh yeah I-” Aang’s voice wavering. “The last few months have been tough with money..” 

“Where would he even sleep?” 

“In the attic-” 

“Suki might come back.” 

Aang grimaces, “Dude… .” A long pause. 

Zuko clears his throat. “I can tell when i’m not wanted so i’ll just-” He stands to leave. 

“No, wait. Can you give us a minute?” Aang looks to the other two. 

Zuko nods and sits down. 

The three go onto the porch. 

“I know you don’t want a new roommate and suki has you sore but this is for the best.” 

Sokka clenches his jaw, and looks to Toph.

“Hey whatever saves me a dollar is fine with me.” She shrugs. 

“And this is a favor to Iroh.” 

Sokka releases the breath he’s been holding, and runs a hand through his hair.  
“Yeah, yeah. Fine.”  
Aang walks back inside leaving, Sokka sits on the steps then lays down, then slaps his hand over his eyes. Toph sits next to him and pats his head. 

“You gotta rip the bandaid with this girl, or it’s gonna eat you up.” 

His head rolls to face her. “Yeah…” 

“Hey, why not try someone new? Download tinder or something.” 

“Tinder? I barely know her!” Sokka pauses with a grin wide on his face. “You get it?” 

Toph socks him in the arm “Get out of my house.” 

“Ow! Hey- This is my house too.”


	2. As a Place, As a Home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko talks with his Uncle, and Sokka tries to apologize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is based on Orange peeler by Horse Jumper of Love (please listen)

Zuko was laying on the couch in Irohs’ store-top apartment, scrolling down twitter blindly. Vent post, scroll. Discourse, scroll. ‘Stan GolDen~’. stop. A gif of azula doing a peace sign and sticking her tongue out. He closes twitter. Zuko is out of the house, In a different country, but home is unavoidable. 

‘Don’t think about it’ 

Uncle Iroh opens the door, and puts down a brown handle bag, then looks over at Zuko.  
“Oh, Nephew, how did it go?” His accent is thick and warms his voice. 

Zuko stares at the ceiling and switches to korean “Fine.” 

“And..” Iroh switches as well then starts the electric kettle on the desk. The man runs a tea shop but he never grows tired of tea, no matter the time of day. 

“And I’m moving in today.” 

“That’s great, I’m happy for you. I know you don’t like sharing the room with your old uncle.” He busies his hands preparing a small brown teapot and two cups the size of his palm. 

“Why did you tell them I wanted to be in their band?” The change of subject is abrupt but Zuko’s voice lacks venom. Iroh puts down the teapot and turns to face his nephew. 

“They’re good kids Zuko, and you’re talented-” 

“Talent doesn’t matter, I have my reasons why I don't play.” 

“You mean, why don't you play for anyone else.” He turns back to his teapot, Zuko puts down his phone and sits up. “I’m not as heavy a sleeper as you think I am.” Iroh chuckles. 

“Still…” He runs out of words. Zuko walks to the window, pulls it open, and sits on the ledge legs swinging against the brick of the building. 

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.” The water is done and Iroh is pouring tea into the pot. He places his array onto a hand tray and shuffles over to the table nearest his nephew.  
Zuko pulls a cigarette out of his pack and puts it to his lips, he pats his pockets. Iroh passes him a matchbook smoothly like he conjured it from thin air. 

“Do you still smoke your pipe?” He strikes a match.

Uncle chuckles, “From time to time, yes.” 

“Thought so.” He muscles the smirk from his face and he puffs.  
The tea is finished steeping, Iroh and Zuko share a cup. They sit in silence, comfortable with each others company. Zuko hadn’t seen his Uncle since the last time he was kicked out of the house, but it feels as if the lost time didn’t exist. 

“Zuko,” He turns to see his Iroh is standing behind him, a tear dancing on his wrinkled face. Iroh grabs him into a hug, he smells of every tea in the shop and hickory tobacco. “Welcome home.” The breath leaves Zuko's lungs quickly and turns into a choked sob. He can only muster a quiet hum of agreement. 

\--

They talked for about an hour on anything but what happened, Zuko chain-smoked and Iroh eventually brought out his ‘special occasion pipe’. Zuko was about to swing inside to go grab some dinner before heading over to his new house when he got hit in the knee with a pebble. 

“Ow, hey-” 

“Oh shit, sorry dude.” He looked down, It was. Oh god, what was his name again. The tan one with the tank top. Only now wearing a different tank top, if you could call it that since the sides opened up down passed the waste. 

“Yeah?” Zuko called out, peeved. 

“Aang said to give you a ride.” 

“Is that Sokka?” Iroh says peeking out the window, Zuko shrugs. “Tell him to come in, i’ll fix him some tea.”  
Zuko gestures with his head for Sokka to head inside and he swings his legs into the apartment. 

“Cool.” Sokka shouts louder than he needs to.  
The front door to the Jasmine Dragon is locked but Sokka knows which rock the spare hides the spare key. He lets himself in and sits on the table closest to the register. 

“I don’t think that’s up to health code.” Zuko comes down the stairs to the left of the register.

“I like to think of them more as, health ‘guidelines’” 

“Is that so?” He reaches up tie his hair into a ponytail, his shirt lifts just above the waste band of his pants. Sokka flicks his gaze up and down twice, the swallows the thoughts to the back of his brain. 

“Hm, so, I wanted to.” He clears his throat. “Apologize, for earlier.” 

Zuko drops his hands and lands them crossed in front of his chest. “Okay.” 

“I was wrong to be rude like that, it wasn’t about you but I made it about you.” Sokka pops off the table and leans back with both hands, “And I’m sorry.” 

A moment of silence, “Okay.” Zuko pivots to face the stairs. 

“Okay…?” 

Sokka pauses, waiting for elaboration but is met with another, “Okay.” He looks back briefly then walks up the stairs.

The others face contorts in offense. “I think that requires more elaboration actually.” 

“Does it?” 

“Yeah. It does.” Sokkas voice hitches in a comical way. 

Zuko scoffs and turns on his heel. “Look, I’m good. Apology accepted, Alright?”

“Alright.” He crosses his arms as punctuation.

“Alright.” Zuko grabs the 3 bags he left at the top of the stairs and makes his way down. 

“Wait, wait.” Iroh follows zuko down with three plastic to-go cups held precariously in his hands. He hands one to each boy and keeps the third for himself. The air is thick and sour. 

“What did i miss?” Iroh slurps at his straw, eyes the other twos tension. 

“Nothing Important.” Sokka scowls. Zuko laces his backpack and guitar around his back, then walks out the door. 

“Are you sure your two are related?” Sokka whispers to Iroh, Iroh chuckles and pats him on the back.

“Zuko is like a cat, scratch him behind the ears and see what happens.” 

“You.. don’t mean literally right?” 

“Oh god no, you’d pull back a stump instead of a hand.”  
\---  
Sokka skips out of the shop and beeps his keys to unlock the car. It’s an old clunker of a van, painted with an arrow across the hood. 

“Got all of your stuff?” He eyes the backpack and guitar case. 

“Yeah.” Zukos’ tone is flat and dejected. “I can walk.”

Sokka throws open the passenger door and walks around to the drivers side. “Just get in.”

The two hop in the car, strap in. Sokka attempts to start the van only for it to stall.  
“Come on Appa, you can do it.” He pats the hood, then tries again. 

“Appa?” 

The car starts. “Yeah, He’s our baby.” Sokka smirks and pulls out of the parking lot. 

They drive in silence for a few blocks before Sokka breaks it. “I don’t know what your story is-”

“Good.” Zuko interjects and looks out the window. 

“Jesus, dude, what burned you?” Immediate regret. Zuko looks at him with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. “Fuck, man, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“I think I’d rather walk.” He fondles the door handle. 

“Wait- Sorry, can I continue?” Sokka stops the car. Zuko moves his hands to cross on his chest. 

“Go.” 

“Look, I don’t know your deal but we’ve all been through some shit. Aang was in foster care, Toph ran away at thirteen, and me and my sister grew up on the rez after our mom died and…” He looks at him. Zuko continues to burn holes in the dashboard. “Shits hard. But we get it. You’re safe here.” 

They sit there, in the middle of the road, quiet. A car honks behind the van. 

“Shit,” Sokka continues to drive in silence for a good few minutes. 

“I’m gay.” Zuko relaxes his hands. 

“What-”

“I mean, my dad kicked me out- this time-,” He clenches his hands into fists. Sokka looks over to him, soft. 

“That’s rough buddy.” Sokka, says reflectively. Zuko sputters a laugh, and looks over at the other boy. Sokka coughs into a laugh. 

“Thanks,” His tone is blazé and thick with sarcasm. 

“Any time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah Azula is in a k-pop band, the whole family is Korean I'll get more into it later. Also Katara and Sokka are Rez kids (I didn't so if I get anything wrong about reservations please let me know) 
> 
> Again Concrit is highly appreciated, enjoy!


	3. Twin Sized Mattress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko has a family meal. 
> 
> Title from Twin Sized Mattress from The Front Bottoms

Sokkas’ keys jingle as he unlocks the front door, Zuko waiting just far enough behind to be safe. The door creeks open and they’re hit by radiant smell and the heat of the stove. Onion and lots of pepper. 

“Is that my dear sister?” 

“Ii, Kuuqarvimiitunga.” A voice calls from the left. Sokka bounds towards the kitchen, Zuko follows along. Above a steaming pot on the stove is a girl with long brown hair tied in a loose braid slung over the shoulder, thin black tattoos lining her chin and hands. 

“Mm, Mamatsak.” Sokka attempts to take the spoon from her hand but she is quick and smacks his hand away. He feigns a wince and continues to absorb the smell. 

“It’s not done yet.” She wipes stray hairs from her forehead glistening with sweat and looks toward the doorway, pausing at the sight of Zuko. “Who’s your friend?” 

Sokka, entranced by the smell of food, doesn’t look up “Kina?” 

“Uh, hi, Zuko here.” He jiggles his hand in a wave, clutching his guitar bag with the other. 

Sokka looks up and catches himself, “Oh jeez yeah, this is Zuko.” 

“I gathered that,” She rolls her eyes with a smile. “I’m Katara.”

Zuko does a curt bow and takes off his shoes out of habit, sliding them into the space between the couch and the door frame. 

“So... he’s moving in today.” Sokka scratches his head making loose of his tight ponytail. Katara blinks with wide eyes. 

“Sukkajuk, eh?”

“Well, he’s Irohs’ nephew-” 

“Asu,” She turns back to her stew. 

Zuko picks at the threads of his bag strap, finding it difficult to parse context enough to understand. “So, my room is upstairs?” 

“Ah yeah, let me take you up-”

“I can find my way, thank you.” A few words are shared between as he leaves

“Angutitsiak.” Katara elbows her brother, he swats at the air. 

“Shut up.” 

Zuko walks down the hall towards the stairwell, noting the doors on either side.The first door on the left is peaked open, a small bathroom, cluttered but clean enough. On the other side of the hall one has a string of photos from a booth photo machine of Aang and Katara hugging and laughing, The next a bent washington state license plate and a hook with a lanyard hanging off it. Following the bathroom is a door covered in what seems to be childrens paintings of animals and people with ‘SOKKA’ in the center. The stairwell goes up on the left side and down the right, Zuko contemplates going down to check things out but his tired body says otherwise. He goes up a flight then takes a left to another door. A post-it note hangs on the door. ‘Suki’. Zuko takes the note then opens the door. 

The room is more or less empty save for an empty bookcase and a futon mattress, the light from a giant window making clear the dust wafting in the air. Zuko closes the door behind him and lays down on the mattress and closes his eyes. Maybe some sleep would do him good, he hadn’t slept since before he left home, not on the plane, not at Uncles. 

_Don’t get too comfortable._

He holds his eyes shut tighter and swallows his body into the fetal position. 

_It won’t last, you know. They’ll know soon enough and then what will you do?_

“Don’t think about it.” His breathing begins to shake. 

_You already told one of them about how disgusting you are, and he told his sister._

“They’re good people, you’ll be fine.” 

_Face it, you’re just broken and disgusting._

“Shut up.” Zuko jumps out of bed and opens the door. 

“Oh hey,” Sokka is standing in the doorway, a blanket and pillow in his hand. The sun from the window traces his face, a sprinkle of freckles across his nose made clear now like a hidden message deciphered. Zuko is struck by the way his jaw connects to his neck and how his hands look lovely holding something soft. His eyes are so blue, he’s never seen anything quite like them. He jostles his head to move the thoughts from the front of his brain unsuccessfully. 

“Hey-” 

Sokka swallows hard and Zuko winces. It’s painful to look at him all of a sudden.

_Disgusting._

“I just wanted to give you these, I didn’t think you had any.” He outstretches his hands, Zuko looks at him. Sokka just noticed that in this light, Zuko’s eyes are the pale yellow of the sun. His inky black hair grows slightly longer at the nape of the neck and wraps over his shoulder, he has the need to touch his collarbone right where the hair ends before his shirt begins. To feel the warmth of his skin and all of the sharp borders. The thought is foreign and almost absurd. First he just met this dude. And. He’s a dude. ‘Would that be weird?’ 

“Thanks,” Voiced from the pit of his stomach and queasy. Zuko averts his eyes and takes the blanket, The moment is more intimate than it had any reason to be. When Zuko takes the bundle Sokka wishes their fingers had touched, even for a second. Just to see what it would be like.

“Well,” Sokka rustles his hair out of his ponytail. It falls along his cheek and passed his pierced ears. “Katara said dinner’s up.” 

“I’ll pass.” His stomach did flips, halfway between starving and nauseous. 

“You see, that wasn’t a question. When Katara says dinner’s up. **Dinners up**.” Sokka’s eyes pleaded. 

\---

Sokka sets the table, Toph hooks up her phone to the speakers for mood music, Katara is frying fry bread, and Aang is popping the caps off five beers and placing them at the table. They work swiftly as a team, and Zuko stands in the corner. Everyone files into their seats, one open. Zuko sits down, stiff as a board. Katara walks behind the chairs and ladles stew into Aangs’ bowl, he kisses her cheek and mouths a thank you. Sokka grabs the basket of fry bread, serves himself then pats toph on the shoulder to pass to her. She takes the basket and pats it to feel. The music is bass heavy and medium tempo. 

“So, Zuko.” Toph faces him, a serious look on her face. She grabs a frybread and thrusts the basket left, bonking Aang in the cheek. “What _is_ your rose and thorn?” The question dangles in front of him, context out of reach.

Zuko is sweating, Katara passes by him and ladles stew into his bowl. “My what now?” 

“Your rose and thorn, Zuko.” She has a smirk on her face, it’s menacing and jovial. The bass of the music pounds like a heart beat. Zuko thinks he is having a stroke. 

“Guys don’t be mean,” Aang rubs his cheek and takes the basket. “Rose and thorn is a thing we do at family dinner where your rose is a good thing that happened today, and your thorn is bad.” He takes two frybreads, puts one on his plate and another on Katara’s, then passes to Zuko. 

“Oh,” Zuko takes the basket with two hands and looks inside, trying to read the bread for answers. “Pass?” He looks up. 

“Wrong answer,” Toph slams her fist on the table, Aang picks up his beer in response to save it from sloshing. Katara dishes Sokka some stew. 

“I’ll go!” Sokkas’ mouth is already full of bread, he takes a sip from his drink to wash it down. 

“My rose was I got free tea from Iroh today, and my thorn was I missed my calculus class this morning.” 

Zuko grabs a piece of bread and puts the basket on the empty space of the table, it’s warm and greasy in his palm. Katara fills Tophs’ bowl. 

“Cause you slept through it,” Aang points at Sokka with his spoon and jabs. 

“Yes. Yes I did.” His chest puffs out in misplaced pride. “Your turn.”

“Hm, Thorn is service at work was nuts and someone called in so I had to run two stations-” Katara loops back to her own spot and fills her own bowl, sets the pot on the table, and sits. 

“Katara, what is _this_?” Sokka interrupts, with a wiggle of what looks like meat on his spoon. 

“It’s Fake-in. Fake chicken!” She claps her hands together and smiles, Aang grabs her hand and squeezes lovingly. Sokka sticks out his tongue and continues eating, the other two stifle a chuckle. 

“Anyway, my rose is Katara.” 

“Gross.” Toph holds her bowl up to her face and gulps, putting the bowl down to show a red stew mustache. “Your rose can’t be Katara every week, dweeb.” she wipes her moustache harshly with the back of her hand. 

“Whatever,” Katara rolls her eyes. “My rose was my professor didn’t show up for my triage class so i got to leave early, and my thorn is my E string snapped and hit my arm.” 

Yes. Music. Zuko can talk about this, Zuko knows music. 

“You play?” He asks. 

“Yeah, for a few years now.” 

“Shut up, you’ve been playing since you were in middle-school.” Sokkas’ voice is muffled and full of soup, the steam leaving his nose like an angry dragon. The table laughs. 

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth.” Katara tosses a piece of bread and it bounces off his forehead. 

“MY rose,” Toph interjects. “Is that some lady was being a dick to the cashier at taco bell so I hit her in the shins with my cane and she couldn’t do anything about it. No thorn, I’m great.” Zuko chokes on his beer, sending it up his nose. Sokka loses it, stew almost coming out of his mouth. 

“Your turn, mysterious stranger.” Toph raps her hand on the table. Suddenly all eyes are on Zuko and he freezes. 

“Um,” The words hold themselves in a marble in the back of his throat, stubborn and firm. 

_Careful_

“Rose.” He draws a blank. Absolutely nothing comes to mind. “Rose was coming to dinner.” He wings it. “And Thorn was I was on a plane for ten hours.” Zuko looks around the table, everyones eyes are wide and their chewing stopped. 

_Now you've done it_

“I’m sorry, you were what?” Aang says. 

“Yeah,” Zuko moves his stew around with his spoon. He hasn’t taken a bite, jaw clenched too tight for a spoon to go in. Sokka reaches his hand out to touch Zukos’ shoulder, Zuko flinches and Sokka rescinds. Zuko looks towards him so he can see him with his good eye. 

“Aang, didn’t you guys put out the new summer menu?” He changes the subject quickly, looking back to Zuko with a subtle smile. 

“Yeah, hence why we were so busy.” Aang Immediately picks up and starts rattling on about salads or something. Zuko crunches the fry bread in between his fingers and pulls a portion off to bite. It’s salty, sweet, buttery, and soft and everything he needed. A spoonful of soup, the pepper hits his tongue first and he remembers street noodles on his block growing up.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading the new chapter. 
> 
> Some notes:  
> Sorry for not much music talk, There'll be lots more next chapter!  
> Sokka and Katara speak Inupiaq! I don't speak it so forgive me, I've just gotten some phrases from the online dictionary.  
> I also can't write without having food/beverages in the background, I'm a chef I can't help myself haha.  
> Started associating each chapter with a song, let me know if y'all like it. 
> 
> Concrit appreciated! Any questions you have I'm all ears.
> 
> Inupiaq translations:  
> Ii - Yes/Yeah  
> Kuuqarvimiitunga - In the kitchen  
> Mamatsak - Smells good  
> Kina? - Who  
> Sukkajuk - Fast  
> Asu - I see  
> Angutitsiak - Handsome


	4. Never Meant pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko finds something in the floorboards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I recommend listening to the song Never Meant by American Football when reading this! It was a big inspiration for this chapter and goes really well with it! 
> 
> Again please enjoy, this one's really drably but I had a hard/fun time writing it.

The gang finishes dinner, it takes over two hours. Zuko stays in the background for the most part, a witty quip every now and then. It’s past dark now, the street lamps glow and heavy are the shadows of the trees. Everyone starts to wrap up, bringing dishes to the sink in a chorus line. Katara rolls up her sleeves to start the last bit of cleaning. 

“Let me.” Zuko interjects. She smiles and gives his shoulder a squeeze as she passes into the living room and down the hall. 

“You coming?” Toph gestures to Sokka. 

“Naw, I have to work on my engineering midterm.” Sokka is looking at his phone, brows furrowed. 

“Boo, Hiss” She sticks out her tongue and heads downstairs. Soon after the sound of an old movie rumbles from the basement. 

Sokka heads to the front porch, Not a typical place to study but people here do things different. He lets the steaming hot water and bubbles in the sink envelope his hands, running the porcelain of the bowls along his palm and following with the sponge. 

_ They didn’t invite you _

He purses his lips and pushes past the thought. Anything else, think of literally anything else. 

Zuko thinks of a melody he heard a while ago. The dishes clink and rattle like hi-hats. He taps his fingers on the sides imagining sliding his fingers up and down the frets of his guitar. His eyes close and he hums the tune, Making quick work of the dishes at the same time. 

A rustling outside, talking. Sokkas voice and another. A girl, unfamiliar. Zuko shouldn’t eavesdrop but in the silence of the house it’s hard to ignore. The words come in fragmented.

“-Keep doing this.” Sokka. 

“I thought we could-.” The other. 

“Yeah, you thought.” Sokka bites. 

A beat of silence. 

“That was mean.” 

“...You’re right.” 

“I should go.” Footsteps. 

“No, wait, Suki-”

A few seconds. From the window in front of the sink Zuko can see a girl go down the road on a longboard. 

Sokka opens the door and slams it behind him, dropping his face into his hands. 

“Uh, hey.” Zuko takes a soapy hand from the sink and waves, pulling his cheeks into an uncomfortable smile. 

Sokka looks up between his fingers. “Hey,” and promptly shuffles to his room.

“Good job Zuko, way to not be weird.” He catches himself voicing the thoughts this time, he winces. 

The dishes finish easily, he cleans up and decides to call it a night. Walking down the hall to they stairwell he thinks about knocking on Sokkas door to see if he’s okay. You just met him, Is that too much? 

_ Too much _

You’re right. Zuko goes upstairs and lays face down on the mattress, letting the pressure of the mattress smoosh his face. Sleep, just need some sleep. 

_ They’ll find out  _

No. Sleep. A breath in, A breath out. 

_ Dad sees, i see, you see; they’ll see soon enough  _

No, No, Stop. Just sleep. He holds his hands over his ears and holds tight. 

_ Come on, Zuzu, don’t you know.  _

“Stop.”

_ You were lucky to be born. _

Fine. No sleep. Fuck sleep. Something else, something fast. Zuko wades through the dark and grabs his guitar, pulls a pick from the neck. He sits back to the door, knees crossed, guitar cradled by his legs. He feels safer. A breath in. Left hand on the fret board, right on the strings. He remembers the tune. A breath out. How did it go again? His hands slide down to around where it should start, he picks at the strings. Not quite it, he moves down a fret and picks. That’s it. He strums the tune, whittling down which note goes where by memory. Each tap ironing out the kinks in his brain till silence. In the silence he starts again, picking in rhythm, agile fingers. 

How did the lyrics go? The lines should go like this. He hums where the words should be.

“ _ Let’s just forget, Everything we said. _ ” 

The voice was velvet and smooth like sea glass. He stops plucking, confused. A moment passes. 

“Why’d you stop?” The voice again, It sounds as if it’s coming from the floor boards. This is nuts. Zuko looks around hastily, he catches a glow of warm light from underneath the bookcase. Now he’s definitely having a stroke. 

Three bumps come from his floor board, Zuko jumps. 

“Zuko?” The voice calls again. He knows the voice when it calls his name. It’s Sokka. Who put Sokka in the floorboards? Zuko shifts toward the bookcase and pushes it to the side with one hand.

“Sokka?” 

“Hey.” 

“This wasn’t in the lease.” 

Sokka laughs, sniffs, “Keep going, I love that song.” His voice is dry, wavering. 

Zuko shuffles his back to the wall again, this time closer to the vent. He picks at the strings in sharp neat strokes, fret hand sliding up and down the board. From below the vent Zuko can hear Sokka keeping beat with his hands against something. The melody blooms, he starts singing. 

“ _ Let’s just forget _

_ Everything said _

_ Everything we did _

_ Best friends and better halves _

_ Goodbyes _

_ And the autumn night when we realized _

_ We were falling out of love _

_ There were some things that were said that weren't meant _

_ But we never did _

_ Not to be _

_ Overly dramatic _

_ I just think it's best _

_ 'Cause you can't miss what you forget _

_ So let's just pretend _

_ Everything and _

_ Anything between you and me _

_ Was never meant. _ ”

Sokkas voice runs over his ears and makes him smooth. The song begins to wrap,  Zuko continues the plucking rhythm to ride out the feeling, his mind is elsewhere. Snow is falling, Tall trees dwarf their bodies. It’s him and Sokka, warming their hands over a fire, hair dusted with snowflakes. The world is quiet and they are alone, just for a little while. 

“Hey Zuko,” Sokka, calls up, Zuko still absentmindedly plucks away at the melody.

“Yeah?” 

“Do you wanna come down-?” 

“I’d like that.”

  
  



	5. Never Meant Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka find something in his ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I recommend listening to Never Meant by American Football while reading this. 
> 
> Sokkas story after dinner, hope y'all like it!
> 
> also sorry for the longer update time, was working on other projects this weekend and didn't get around to writing. as well as writing a cypher for all the character versions in this, from sound inspirations to family life. so look forward to that coming soon as well. 
> 
> Enjoy!

‘Suki:

I’m in the neighborhood, can we talk?’

Sokka felt his stomach rise into his throat, the blue tint of his phone screen became hard to bear. 

“You coming?” Toph gestures towards him. He’s sucked into the screen, watching the triple dots on his messenger pop up and disappear. 

“Naw, I have to work on my engineering midterm.” 

He texts back:

‘Okay.’ 

Or would ‘Sure’ be better, more cavalier? Too late, she’s already responded. 

‘Give me 2min.’

Fuck. He’s not ready for this. Toph says something that’s clearly funny but he can’t muscle a laugh. He heads outside and makes a seat of the stairs. Arms crossed over his knees, chin between his elbows, and his right foot bouncing uncontrollably. 

“Hey.” Walking up the pavement, it’s Suki. He didn’t even hear her roll. 

“Hey.” Sokka looks at her. Her longboard is in her hand, she’s wearing those overalls he always liked. The ones with the paint splatters. Short hair held up in a tiny ponytail.

“So… this weekend is the show you’re hosting.”

“Yeah.” He looks away, burying his face in his arms. 

“Maybe before the show we could hang out or something?” 

“Do you want that?”

“Yes. Sokka. Yes, that’s why I asked.” She’s upset. The way she says his name. Disappointed and breathy, and it makes his stomach churn. He thinks of all the times she’s said his name compared to this one. 

“Look,” Sokka blinks hard, “I want to be friends bu-”

“Then lets be friends!” Her voice hitches in the ugly way a voice cracks before a cry. “I miss you. Please? Let’s be friends.” 

“I can’t keep doing this.” He presses hard into his eyes with his hands, he wants it to be over, please let it be over. 

“I thought we could-.” Suki takes a step forward. 

“Yeah, you thought.” Sokka bites. Suki steps back. He drops his hands and sees her face in full light. He wants to die. 

A beat of silence. 

“That was mean.” 

“...You’re right.” 

“I should go.” She turns away and walks. 

“No, wait, Suki-”

Suki drops her board and takes off, 

_ God why does she have to be so cool when she’s breaking my heart.  _

He lays down on the porch, studying the moths hitting the light. One moth buzzes against the bulb and falls. 

“I need to get out of here.” 

Sokka goes back inside, slamming the door unintentionally behind him. 

_ Rip the bandaid  _

Tophs’ voice echoes in his head. He lets his face sink into his hands again with a groan. 

“Uh, hey.” Zukos’ voice rings from the kitchen. Sokka peaks through his fingers. He has a single soapy hand raised in a half wave, and this. Forced, toothy smile pulled along his face. It’s tragically cute, and It makes him smile but immediately after he feels raw inside. Like a porkchop under a tenderizer. 

_ He totally heard all of that.  _

“Hey.” Sokka quickly removes himself from the conversation before he can hear a response, putting himself safe behind his bedroom door. He leans back on the frame and slides down so that he’s hugging his knees. 

The tears come fast and heavy, clouding his vision. He stomachs the sobs as much as he can, only the ghost of a cry is audible. It feels like every day one of his ribs is ripped out and they all have ‘Suki’ written on the side. He slaps the sides of his head over and over again, trying to get it together. 

_ Oh god, my midterm. _

He cries harder. It was a mistake coming here, uprooting his life for her. He did everything to get her to stay but she still-

- _ Don’t love you anymore _

His thoughts spiral for what feels like hours, till his throat is raw and his face is hot. The only sound is the ugly occasional gag on his own spit between gulps of air. 

Until it’s not.    
  


Somewhere outside, someone picks at a guitar. The vent, it must be Zuko playing. Sokka sniffs, wipes his tears with his forearm and listens. It’s fast and delicate but simple. He knows this one, what was it? That one American Football song. Yeah the lyrics went: 

“ _ Let’s just forget, Everything we said. _ ” 

The plucking stops. Zuko must have heard that, huh? Sokka leans in. 

“Why’d you stop?” He cups his hands to carry his voice. 

Silence. Sokka stands and thumps his hand on the ceiling three times. “Zuko?” 

More silence, then the moving of furniture. 

“Sokka?” 

“Hey.” 

“This wasn’t in the lease.” Zukos’ voice is genuinely distraught, Sokka can’t help but laugh. 

“Keep going, I love that song.” 

Zuko starts again at the beginning of the song, he’s only played the riff once today but it’s perfect. Maybe he’s played this song a lot? It’s sweet on the ear even through an air vent. Sokka sits down on his bed and begins to keep time on his legs with his hands. 

_ “ _ _ Let’s just forget _

_ Everything said _

_ Everything we did _

_ Best friends and better halves _

_ Goodbyes _

_ And the autumn night when we realized _

_ We were falling out of love _

_ There were some things that were said that weren't meant _

_ But we never did _

_ Not to be _

_ Overly dramatic _

_ I just think it's best _

_ 'Cause you can't miss what you forget _

_ So let's just pretend _

_ Everything and _

_ Anything between you and me _

_ Was never meant. ” _

By the time the lyrics finish, Sokkas’ tears have dried on his face and he’s covered in goosebumps. Zuko continues to guitar line, his fingers plucking honey. Sokka still keeps time, letting each note trickle by him in one after the other. For a moment he feels like he’s in gran-grans trailer, snowflakes scatter against the window. He sits on a quilt on the floor next to the woodstove. And there’s Zuko on the other side, plucking at a guitar. Then he sees Zuko look at him with that pulled smile from earlier. He laughs, and Zuko laughs. The pull on his chest gets bigger. 

“Hey Zuko.” 

“Yeah?” He continues to play, running the song effortlessly. 

“Do you wanna come down-?” 

“I’d like that.”

  
  



End file.
